The People vs Bruce Wayne
by DJH42
Summary: This was a fun one to write. I wanted to do a short story like an episode of Law & Order, but with Bruce on trial for his role as a vigilante. I used a lot of the somewhat obscure characters that were Bruce's civilian help in law enforcement and in the judiciary system. Pretty much all of the characters that Bruce has his interactions with in my story aren't on the character list.


_The People vs Bruce Wayne_

The People vs Bruce Wayne

 _ **Prologue**_

Dawn was breaking on the city, crawling through the gaps that the buildings left in the skyline and melting the snow that lay over the ground and buildings like a blanket. It worked its way through the town like a slow moving wave that would eventually crash on the west side of the island. The city should have already been bustling with people by now. If this had been any other day there would be citizens taking the "L" train into the heart of the city where most of the locals worked. There would be pedestrians, taxis, and metro busses wheeling the working class to wherever it was that they were supposed to be going, but today was not the case. As the first light fell over the courthouse there were news crews setting up their cameras and testing connectivity with their respective stations. Some of the reporters were speaking amongst themselves while their teams prepped for when they would be live on the air, coffee in hand, all of them aware of the fact that they were trying to tell the same story with a different twist. There was a woman leaning against a news van parked away from the crowds. Her team had been in place for hours and had the authorization to get started as soon as possible. She was going over her notes again. She was adamant that she would not skew the truth with any form of commentary; it just was not her style. She turned her head as she heard a group of reporters laughing loudly on the steps of the courthouse with some of the local law enforcement. Everyone had a different take on what was going on in the courthouse; everyone had a different opinion as to what happened on that night three weeks ago and as to what should be the outcome. "Nothing that any of them believe will have an impact on what is decided in there. There are twelve men and women that will have to make that choice on their own;" she thought as she watched the crowd growing.

Just then, the door on the side of the van opened up. Her camera operator was rubbing his eyes clear of sleep when he spoke, "Just got the call. We go on in ten." He stepped out and started to make his way to the camera setup just at the steps of the courthouse. She watched him as he walked and eventually disappeared into the whirlwind of news teams that had descended on the courthouse. She opened the van door and grabbed a coffee. It wasn't as fresh as she had hoped but it was still warm enough for her to enjoy, especially in the cold snap that arrived at the turn of the New Year. It was the first week of January and the city had just been through an average winter, full of snow flurries and the unusually cold yet oft expected blizzard. She had live in Gotham for most of her life yet it never felt as cold as it had since the day she was assigned to covering this story. Her focus was singular as she walked to her mark at the foot of the courthouse steps. She could see Wayne Tower on the horizon, miles away yet still towering over the court. "Here we go;" she thought as she took her mark in front of the camera. Her earpiece was abuzz with the voices of her colleagues in the studio. There were simple pleasantries being exchanged, intermittently peppered with questions as to what order the stories were going to unfold in. She could hear her producer repeating himself, annoyed; "We are starting with the Wayne trial. We will update every thirty minutes until deliberations. We've been over this, people."

She took one last look at Wayne Tower as it cast its shadow across the city and turned back to the camera as she heard the countdown to when she would be live on the air. She had done this every morning for nearly three weeks and today would be no different from the other days. Her camera operator held his hand up as the countdown reached five seconds left. She watched as he counted down to three, two, and one…

"Good morning, Gotham. Vicki Vale here, reporting live from outside the Gotham Superior Courthouse where Bruce Wayne, the former CEO & Chairman Emeritus of Wayne Enterprises is currently on trial for a crime that has been dubbed the 'Ace C & P Massacre'. Three weeks ago, Bruce Wayne was captured at the research labs of Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals while dressed as Batman at the scene of multiple homicides. He was arrested on charges of the murders of twenty-seven employees that had been contracted by Wayne Enterprises' Research and Development division. We are coming to the end of the first week of the trial and have heard much from the prosecution regarding the severity of the crimes as well as the allegation from the D.A. that Bruce suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, which led to a dissociative complex that eventually spawned the persona of The Batman. The prosecution has already questioned the arresting officers as well as the coroner and the lead investigator, all of which painted a grim picture of the crime in their respective testimonies. My sources in the District Attorney's office have informed me that we can expect the prosecution to call in an expert witness today. As for the testimony from Bruce himself, we do not have a timetable for when he will be called to the stand. As for now we are awaiting the start of today's proceedings and we will keep you and the people of Gotham up to date on any new information as it becomes available."

 _ **The Decision**_

He could hear them. Through the walls of the conference room and from down the hall he could still make out most of what the gallery was saying about him. It wasn't good. Liar... Hypocrite... Psycho... Vigilante... Murderer... "You knew this was coming." he thought. "You knew that this was one of the possible outcomes." For over two decades, he had given everything he had to protect the city and its citizens; day or night, he was there as its overseer. As Bruce Wayne, he helped mold Wayne Enterprises and its subsidiaries into an industrial engineering powerhouse that led all other companies in the tristate area for job creation in public works. The company's R&D division had doubled its personnel over the last eighteen months after Bruce followed a friend's recommendation that he allow Gotham PD's Quick Response Team to utilize the technology that was designed to aid the Batman. He was against it at first, but the friend who had asked him to share that technology was the same man that had designed the tools; Lucius Fox. He had passed three years earlier. "What would he say if he saw all of this?" He thought of the day that Lucius called him to the hospital. "You know that we won't be here forever, Bruce." Lucius had said as he pointed towards Alfred. "You know that you cannot do this forever. Don't let this battle be only yours anymore. You have done enough, sacrificed more than any person ought to. You've stopped them all, Bruce. Let Gordon keep the peace. Help him choose the men that you trust and let them take over." It would be another year before the cancer finally won. After the funeral, and with Alfred pushing him to follow Fox's request, he gave up the Batman. "They were right. You can't deny that now." Bruce said aloud. Even though he sat in the dark, he could still read most of the paper that had been placed before him. His senses were not as sharp as they once were, though. Twenty plus years of being the Batman had taken their toll on his body and his mind, and with Bruce having given up the mantle of the Bat after Lucius had died had only allowed him to lose his edge even quicker. "I was sloppy." He thought. "If I had never given up then we wouldn't be here. I could have tracked him down and stopped him."

There was a knock at the door.

"Bruce?" The door cracked open. It was Jim Gordon, now the Mayor of Gotham City. He had been there as support for Batman almost every night Bruce suited up and he had always found a new way to defend the city's need for Batman, sometimes daily. "You know, you probably should have been in charge of P.R. all these years, Jim," Bruce said under his breath. "What was that?" asked Gordon. The man was old, well in to his 70s, yet his senses were still keen. "Bruce, they're waiting. They need an answer." The attorneys sent him in. Bruce knew. Gordon had allowed a vigilante to do the work that the city's police could not do for years. His relationship with the Batman was met with mixed emotions over the years and now, after twenty-two years of looking the other way, the people of Gotham had finally agreed that Gordon was an accessory to all that Bruce had done. "Hypocrite," Bruce mumbled softly with a chuckle. "They're calling me the hypocrite." The prosecution had offered Jim a plea as well, Bruce was sure of it. Gordon's freedom was contingent on Bruce's next decision. They were hoping that a friendly face would convince him to sign his life away. He looked down at the paper lying in front of him. The crack in the door had allowed the light to fall across the table and illuminate the plea deal that the district attorney was hoping Bruce would sign.

It was an admission of guilt for the murder of twenty-seven people at Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals. Bruce was captured that night while investigating the scene of a crime that was more brutal than any other crime in the history of Gotham. A mass murder of civilians that worked with Wayne Enterprises' R&D department for the last six years. Twenty-seven innocent people murdered and it was the work of the newest threat to Gotham; a sociopath that had arrived seemingly overnight and had left his mark in the most violent of ways. He lured Bruce in to take the blame...

A murderer that calls himself the Joker.

He read over the plea. By signing it, he was agreeing to be locked away in Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane with nearly everyone he had put away over the past twenty years; countless inmates that he had taken down under the guise of the Batman. Most of them had been beaten bloody by the Dark Knight. A few of them had spilled Bruce's own blood. Every one of them knew what was happening in the courtroom down the hall, and every one of them wanted him to sign that paper.

It was a death sentence.

"Tell them that my answer is no, Jim."

 _ **The Gallery**_

As the bailiff led Bruce back into the courtroom there was a hush amongst the gallery. The trial had been underway for just under a week. He had been jailed for just under three weeks and yet it felt like it had been months since Gotham's finest had taken him down at Ace' research lab. He had been impressed with how Q.R.T. had managed to surround and infiltrate the building as quickly as they had, cutting off any possible escape route. "You lost focus;" he thought to himself, "or you just chose the right people to do the job. Also, I did give them most of my tools." Gordon and Bruce selected most of the Q.R.T. members once Bruce had initially hung up the cowl. There were a few officers that were appointed by Jim's replacement as police commissioner, Mike Akins, and Bruce knew that they were put there with the sole purpose of taking him down. It was no surprise that Akins was against everything that Bruce and Gordon had done over the years. Hell, the Gotham Gazette marked his first day as commissioner by publishing a picture of him destroying the Bat symbol himself. If there were a stronger way to voice his stance on the Batman, this trial would be it.

Bruce panned his gaze across the room. The headcount was minimal. "Safety;" Bruce thought. "They see me as a danger. Guilty until proven innocent, I suppose." There were six armed officers stationed around the defense. There were additional police at each exit as well as multiple officers, including Q.R.T. waiting outside the building. Bruce looked down at the restraints that he now wore daily. "Just go along with it, Bruce. This won't be long;" he thought. As he lifted his eyes back to the courtroom, he saw Jim Gordon. The look on his face cut through Bruce. "This is the man that entrusted me to protect this city. He let them arrest me for doing what he couldn't do for years and now…" Bruce paused in his thought. The contemptuous look that Gordon was giving him faded away as quickly as Bruce had noticed it. Gordon looked confused, as if he was trying to recognize the man with whom he had locked eyes. "Now he's not sure if he was right in letting me handle the dirty work for all of those years. You can't expect to keep your hands clean in a city this filthy, Jim."

Bruce let that last thought linger as he looked back down at his restraints. The bailiff gave him a nudge and pointed to his seat at the defense table. The court had provided him with counsel when he was captured as they had frozen all of his assets and Bruce scoffed at the cowardice of his own attorneys as they all refused to offer any assistance, stating that with no means to pay he could not afford the necessary retainer. Coupled with the emergency vote to strip him of his Chairman Emeritus title by the board of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce was left to fend for his own with no resources. No one wanted to touch the Batman case. To be honest, Bruce was not even sure if this lawyer would be there throughout the entirety of the trial given the amount of hate the public had built up for The Bat over the years. There would be threats from crime families. There would be threats from corrupted officials. There would be threats from the public that had turned on the Batman. All of these people looking out for their own interests and willing to go so far as to let Bruce's court-appointed attorney know what would become of him should Bruce be acquitted.

"How are we looking, Blake?" Bruce asked as he sat down. The man shot him an incredulous look. "Well," he started, "that plea deal was really your only option, so there's that." He turned to look right at Bruce and said, "Honestly, Mr. Wayne, I'm a little out of my depth here. There's so much evidence stacked against you that I can't…" He stopped midsentence and took a breath to collect himself. Bruce was aware of what was coming and he knew it was because he would not sign the plea. The man slowly moved his chair away from Bruce. "We cannot win, Mr. Wayne. Not against these odds. Moreover, with you refusing my counsel there's nothing else I can say. I'll prolong this as much as I can but unless this Joker fellow pops back up, and soon, I can't guarantee your freedom." As Bruce leaned in to whisper he heard one of the guards behind him release the clasp on his holster. He looked over his shoulder and saw that officer's hand on his sidearm. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to the man that had just informed him that he could do nothing. "This 'Joker fellow' won't make a move again so long as this farce of a trial is underway. He baited me in. He set me up." Bruce sat back in his chair and looked around the room again. "Where is Alfred?" he asked his attorney. The man had a puzzled look on his face as he spoke. "Mr. Wayne, we…" he was cut off.

"ALL RISE;" shouted the bailiff. Bruce tuned the rest out. He stood as Judge Maggie Sawyer entered the room. Her appointment as judge to his case was of no shock to him. When Gordon was the commissioner, she was head of the Major Crimes Unit, which generally dealt with investigating a vast majority of the people Bruce had captured. She had more than enough experience in dealing with cases of extreme circumstance and violence. She was tough. With her experience, she was able to get her foot in the door of Gotham's D.A. office where she had used her skills to put away the scum of their city for years. That resolve had granted her the opportunity to be elected judge of the criminal court. With Gordon, Sawyer, and Batman capturing and putting criminals away, Gotham had ushered in an era of peace that it had not seen in generations. It was that same peace that gave Bruce the opportunity to retire as the "city's savior". The way Bruce saw it, it was that same peace that lulled everyone into complacency and allowed the Joker to strike.

Bruce saw the irony that he now sat at the table usually reserved for mobsters and supervillains. He could not help but think, "What was that saying Dent had about becoming the villain?"

 _ **The Prosecution**_

"…So help you God?"

Bruce refocused his attention to the bailiff as he was swearing in the expert witness. "God;" he thought, "There's a novel idea. They make us swear to a deity that government has removed from itself."

He had trouble letting the thought fade to the back of his mind. His attorney had attempted to push his testimony back for as long as he could, which was not long at all. There were no witnesses to the massacre that Batman was investigating and Bruce had already met with the specialists that would give their respective testimonies on his own cognizance. He did not care what they would eventually say. He knew that the premise of donning an alter ego to fight crime was a redundancy in a world with heroes much stronger than a man in a bat suit; these proverbial gods among men. It was asinine, but these people needed him to do it. They were what the crime in this city would prey upon. The very people that were now judging him for stepping up to make his city safe for were the same type that he would save almost nightly. "You were the reason this city needed me in the first place." Bruce was tense as that thought passed. "I nearly died on multiple occasions for people just like you. And I would have..." He relaxed in his seat. The witness was a psychologist who had visited Bruce in his cell immediately after his incarceration. He had been there every day since, trying to "peel back The Batman to get a true look at Bruce Wayne" as he had explained it to Bruce. "He's just trying to get me to say this is due to suppression of emotions due to my parents." Bruce had heard that before. "I know what I am and I know why I had to don the mask;" he thought. "I have to make these people that have been walked over for years comprehend what that means... what that sacrifice entails... That will be the real trial."

"Can you state your name and occupation for the court?" Bruce looked on as Mackenzie Bock addressed the witness. They called him "hardback" when he was chief of police. When he was not working, which was next to never, he would be reading law books to find ways to keep Gotham's violent offenders in jail for as long as the city legally could. "He was good;" Bruce thought, "his dedication kept him one step ahead of every motion the collective defenses of every major mob family in the city would file. He was another reason this city finally knew peace. There's no reason he shouldn't have been elected after Maggie became the judge."

Bruce looked at the defense attorney the court had so graciously appointed him and thought, "The only people I trust in this room are all trying to put me away." He sighed and returned his eyes to the witness stand. "My name is Donovan Caine. I am a doctor with a PhD in forensic psychology and another in social psychology." Donovan was the consummate professional with a stoicism that aided immensely in his line of work. "No judgment," Bruce thought. That was the persona that he had in those conversations that they shared while Bruce was handcuffed and chained to a table. "Nope. None at all."

"You've had meetings with Mr. Wayne since his arrest, is this correct?" Mackenzie asked. "Yes, I have met with Bruce twice a day since his arrest seventeen days ago." Donovan replied. "And how long are these sessions, doctor?" "Usually around two hours."

"So, close to seventy hours of meetings logged with the defendant is that correct, doctor?" "Yes sir," replied Donovan, "but that number is probably closer to ninety. There were many times that I spent the entire day with Bruce." "And what did you speak of in these sessions, doctor?" "Many things," he answered, "we spoke of his childhood. We spoke of his contributions to this city and his thoughts on his family's legacy. We spoke of his successes and of his failures. We spoke of the role he played in this city as the Batman and the impact he believes it has had on this city's victory over crime." "Doctor, during these hours did the defendant ever reference the night of December sixteenth of last year?" There was a pause.

"Yes." Dr. Caine had started. "Doctor, before we continue, in your professional opinion is the defendant aware of why he is being detained and what he is on trial for?" Bock was attacking it fast. "I wouldn't sign his deal so he wants to brand me crazy." Bruce thought on that for a moment until Dr. Caine spoke. "Yes sir, he understands completely." The D.A. turned to look at Bruce before he continued with his questioning. "So you believe that he fully grasps the gravity of these proceedings and the severity of the possible outcomes?" A voice in the back of his head said, "Never too early to get the jury to start thinking 'insane', is it?" I guess not." Bruce said to himself.

"Mr. Wayne, you are to remain silent as the witness is addressed." Judge Sawyer said. Bruce turned his head from Bock to Maggie. "My apologies, your honor." He had not realized he spoke as loud as he had. "I guess all those nights spent protecting the lot of you may have damaged my hearing, what with all the close range gunshots and explosions." he thought. "Now, Mr. Caine," Bock started again, "you were made privy to the police report from the scene of the crime that transpired at Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals that night, were you not?" "Yes sir, as a forensic psychologist it's my job to research the crimes my patients are accused of before we begin our sessions." replied Donovan. "And Mr. Wayne's account of that evening; does it match up with the findings of said report?" Bock slowly closed his distance to the stand. "There were some discrepancies, but overall they were congruous." "Some discrepancies, doctor? Could you explain these discrepancies?" Bruce tensed up again. "Of course there are going to be discrepancies," he was annoyed. "You didn't get there until long after The Joker had left." Bruce thought of that night as Donovan Caine gave his testimony. He played the scene over in his head as he had done hundreds of times ever since the G.C.P.D. had taken him down. How did he let that happen?

"You agreed to give it up," he remembered Alfred saying one night years ago, "you promised Lucius. You promised me, Bruce." Alfred's voice echoed his name in his head as he regained his focus. "Bruce? C'mon, Bruce..." It was his legal "counsel", if you would take counsel from a man that had given up on his client. Bruce lifted his head. The room was staring at him. "How long was I lost in thought?" Bruce turned to his attorney with a lost look. "Mr. Wayne, the D.A. called you to the stand. Remember: all you need to do is to invoke your Fifth Amendment privilege and you won't have to answer any of their questions, okay?" Bruce locked eyes with his attorney and lightly shook his head. "If I do that they will assume I'm guilty." He straightened up in his seat and continued, "These people need to know that their city is once again in danger." As he stood, he saw that all six officers now had their hands on their respective side arms. He side-shuffled in his chains until he was clear of the table as two of the guards made their way to either side of the witness stand as the others guided him there. "Mr. Wayne," Maggie was giving him a concerned look, "are you fit to continue for the day?" "Yes, your honor. I apologize for my lack focus." The voice in the back of his head was annoyed.

"You don't plan on doing that again, do you?"

 _ **The Exchange**_

"I do." said Bruce as the bailiff finished swearing him in and he removed his hand from the bible. The armed guards in front took up various positions around the room, each one with a clear line of sight to him. "Mr. Wayne, you were silent for quite some time before taking the stand." said Mackenzie Bock. "Yes sir, I was." Bruce answered. "Any particular reason why, Bruce?" He looked towards the jury as he spoke then turned back to Bruce. Bruce looked down at his restraints and said, "I was listening to Dr. Caine speak of the night I was arrested on suspicion of multiple homicides." "'Multiple'..." Bock quoted, "Mr. Wayne, twenty-seven people were murdered from the research department at Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals. The police found you dressed as The Batman at the scene. You were the only person in the building that was still alive, Bruce." He paced the room. "Mr. Wayne, you were arrested with multiple weapons in your possession and you were dressed up as a vigilante fugitive. We know that you are the Batman. Not only have you admitted to that much but we found the cave under the ruins of old Wayne Manor with your arsenal. Bruce, why was Batman there that night?"

Bruce looked back at him; "Well, as Dr. Caine stated there are 'discrepancies' in the report." Bock stepped towards him. "Mr. Wayne, you did not answer the question. Let me rephrase it: Bruce, why were YOU there that night?" Bruce took in his breath, "I was investing the scene of 27 murders at Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals. I was driving back to the city from my family's estate when I was alerted to an alarm at the scene and I..." "'Alerted', Mr. Wayne? How were you alerted?" Bock interjected. Bruce disregarded the interruption. "Shut him up," the voice in the back of his head replied. "Mr. Bock, I am, or rather WAS a billionaire CEO and eventually CE of a company whose holdings included various research departments that employed not only the brightest minds but were also granted nearly unlimited resources. Their legal team made sure everything we did abided by the law without the aid of corporate loopholes as to maintain total transparency. We were within our rights as a holding company to be made aware of all the information we deemed necessary; security was always a priority..."

Mackenzie cut in, "For the Batman, Bruce. It was a priority for Batman." Shut him up. "Objection, your honor," Bruce's attorney shouted; "leading the witness." "Sustained; District Attorney Bock..." Judge Sawyer motioned for him to continue. "Mr. Wayne I'd imagine the legal team for Wayne Enterprises was not planning on you using their resources to break the law while hiding behind a mask, is that a fair assumption?" Bock said directly. "No," Bruce disagreed, "most of the tools I utilized were prototypes for military contracts and I was always a party to the testing of said equipment whether it was from behind a mask or not the legality of my actions was sound. Surveillance equipment was something I used nightly to protect this city and it helped me save hundreds if not thousands of people." "So you admit to using military-grade weapons on the citizens of this city?" Bock was trying to trip up Bruce's train of thought. "District Attorney Bock," Bruce inhaled deeply, "those 'military-grade weapons' that Wayne Enterprises developed were all prototypes of non-lethal equipment. The 'citizens' I attacked were criminals that consistently harassed the civilian population of this city, some of these criminals were too powerful for the city's police department to handle on their own which is why I was allowed to offer assistance when G.C.P.D. was overmatched. And as for the individuals I did this for, turn around to the gallery behind you; there are quite a few of them here that would argue against your point of view." There was a pause where the District Attorney seemed to be gathering his thoughts. He then did something that Bruce was not expecting. Bock slowly nodded with a smug look on his face before saying, "Alright, Mr. Wayne. No more questions at this time your honor." Bock turned to the defense with a nod. "He's your witness. "

Bruce turned to look at his attorney, the man that had just told Bruce that he would lose this trial. He was shuffling through some papers in front of him as if he was just passing time. "Mr. Erickson, are you going to question the witness?" asked Judge Sawyer. Blake Erickson looked up, almost lost. "Is that what I looked like when they called on me? Our team doesn't look to be very prepared for this trial…" thought Bruce. "Yes, your honor;" started the attorney, "Mr. Wayne, as we have already heard Dr. Caine's analysis of the police report would you please continue with your account of what transpired at the crime scene?" Bruce shot Makenzie Bock a dismissive glance and started to play it through his head again.

 _ **The Knight in Question**_

He was notified off an alarm at Ace's main research building at the southwest end of Old Gotham at 8:13 PM on December 16. He was driving back into the city after visiting the grave of Lucius Fox, heading south on the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge. He knew the police had between thirty to forty minutes before they would arrive and that he could make it there in about seven. Six minutes later, he was suiting up in the Bat costume by the back entrance of Ace Chemicals. "Twenty minutes." He told himself. That was more than enough time for him to get in, find out what was going on and be gone before the G.C.P.D. hit Monolith Square. Batman looked up at the building's exterior. He saw a light in a window on the third floor. "There's my first stop," he thought.

He scaled the fire escape and picked the lock on the emergency door. As he stepped inside the office, it was illuminated in blue light. "Warning: exit the building and report to decontamination immediately." a woman's recorded voice repeated over the intercom system. "Great, a containment breach." said a voice in the back of his head. He put on his respirator as he made his way down the hall to the office in the corner with its light on. The room had been ransacked, he was sure of that. Drawers emptied, shelves torn down, stacks of paper strewn about the room. "They scrambled; this was frantic. They were searching for something here," he thought. He turned and started back towards the hall to make his way towards the research lab on the second level when he noticed the voice on the intercom had changed. This new voice was a man's; raspy and hollow. At first it just repeated the recording until it addressed him directly. "You weren't supposed to be here tonight, Bats..." it said before the audio cut out. "Hmmm… this changes things," he thought. "Seventeen minutes left. Need to move." He pushed through the offices and down the stairs to the second floor. As he attempted to gain access to the main research office, the entrance was blocked. Batman put his shoulder into the door and forced his way in. The door opened up about half way before he lost his footing and fell to the ground. "Dammit, I'm getting old for this shi..." his thought was cut short as he realized what he was looking at. Lying directly in front of him were two employees of Ace Chemicals. Both were dead.

"This changes everything." he thought as he stood, looking down to see what had caused him to lose his footing.

It was blood.

He leaned his head around the door, bracing for what he may find. The blue light that filled the room made the blood that covered the floor look black, almost as if it was it was oil. He counted six additional bodies, all employees. The savagery of the scene was not one for the faint of heart but this was not the first time Batman had come across a murder. This was however the first time he had been unsettled by the violence associated with the crime scene. Most of the employees were set at their respective workstations. Batman took a deep breath and squeezed into the room. There was another body behind the door. "That makes nine." Nine people that worked with Wayne Enterprises. "These employees were slaughtered and then placed at their desks post-mortem." Batman examined the macabre scene of the deceased; they were all positioned to look as though they were still working. All of them showed acts of immense brutality; some impaled with testing equipment, some bludgeoned to death, one victim made to write the words "I know you have it…" across a white-board with his own blood. He paused at the board. Ace Chemicals worked under the direct supervision of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce Wayne knew every project this lab was working on and not one that he knew of could be turned into a weapon.

"What haven't they been telling me?" he thought as he carefully made his way through the corpses and into the hall that led to the main research lab. He sprinted to the next-door thinking, "Thirteen minutes. This is bad, but you can handle this. Remember your training, old man" He put his shoulder into the next door and burst through into the main research lab. Lives were at stake now. He knew he was running out of time and that he had to take the offensive. He kept his eyes up as he made his entrance into the darkened room, noting the vaulted ceiling with the office windows that overlooked the lab and the fact that the room was devoid of any type of strategic defensive positioning, "Find cover," screamed the voice in his head. He unloaded flash & smoke bombs and ducked behind an empty desk to scan the room quickly. As the smoke dispersed, he counted four more victims at their desks like the dead in the previous room. "Thirteen…" the word repeated in his head. " Thirteen… thirteen… thirte…" his thoughts stopped as he looked up. In the dim of the flashing blue, he started to see the outlines of figures above him, not so much the figures themselves, but the light reflecting off the eight lab coats worn by the research team as they moved around the offices. He waited for what seemed like an eternity for his eyes to adjust to the dark fully.

Before they had completely adapted he realized that the employees were not actually inside the upstairs labs; they were all hanged, swinging from the pipes above. "Dear God…" the voice in his head lamented. This was more than he was ready for. He had been out of commission for years and had never seen this kind of carnage in all of his time spent as the city's protector. "Eigh…" he choked as the words came out of him. "Eight more; that makes Twenty-one…" The broken pipes these researchers were hanging from were part of the decontamination system in place in the instance of a containment issue; most of the chemicals used to suppress an outbreak were safe on their own but all the various chemicals were now mixed in puddles throughout the room. "Who knows what this would do to those unlucky enough to be caught in it. This respirator was a good ca…" His thought paused as his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness that was ever so briefly lit with indigo. "Their faces…" All of the employees were smiling as if they were in a state of euphoria. The intercom boomed to life with a scream that Batman was not prepared for, "LIKE OUR WORK? YOU SHOULD!" He dropped and rolled under the nearest desk. Was the intruder in the offices on the second floor? Batman had not noticed anyone else in the glass above. "These chemicals they use here are just fantastic! I didn't realize that they would leave those beautiful smiles once they were all mixed up and dumped on the dead but that's just one of those "happy little accidents", ey? Anyways, I am waiting for you, you know… You're so close." rang the intercom, "Come find me… I have six more of your friends that are just dying for you to save them…" What he heard next drove Batman to abandon his cover and charge headlong through the lab to the upstairs office.

Bruce paused in his thought and refocused on the courtroom. Everyone was abhorred by what he had been describing. He looked at his attorney who still bore the look of a defeated man. He looked at the prosecution whom he thought would be smug and saw that they were just as disgusted at the Joker's exploits as he was. He turned to Judge Sawyer. She was the only individual in the room with a look of concern. "Should I continue your honor?" Bruce asked. Maggie inhaled deeply and turned to the court. "Yes, Mr. Wayne, just one moment." She lifted her voice as she addressed the gallery, "This testimony, as with this trial, are of a graphic nature. If there are those in the gallery that would care to step out before we continue you may do so now. All subpoenaed witnesses must remain in the courtroom." A third of the gallery stood to leave, some of them reporters. As the last of them filed out of the doors, Judge Sawyer turned back towards Bruce. "Mr. Wayne," she spoke, "please continue."

"The next voice that came over the intercom…" he started.

It was a woman, screaming. He could hear the others in the room, pleading for it to stop; some crying, some begging, most screaming. He could not distinguish the voices from each other as he ran to the door that led to the connecting hallway to the storage facility. "NOOOO!" The woman's voice shook the hallway through the intercom as he heard the most grotesque laugh in the background. There was a loud snap, followed by an odd silence and then the screams of the other hostages. The man laughed directly into the microphone, "WE'RE HAVING FUN NOW, BATS! COME JOIN US!" and then the intercom cut out leaving only a deafening silence. The hallway was less than a hundred yards long but he was in full armor and he was nowhere near speed he was in his younger days. "Ten minutes." He thought. When he broke open the door he was surprised to find the storage facility to be brightly lit and as Batman turned his head to shield his eyes, he heard the laugh. It was no longer over the intercom; it was in the room with him. He spun around in an attempt to gain his bearings but could see next to nothing. "Blind as a bat, are we?" the voice mocked him as his eyes struggled to adjust. He felt a wall and immediately backed into it. The voice was laughing again. "Here. This guy's the last one, I promise." There was a muffled shriek and then a crunch.

As Batman looked up, he started to make out a figure moving towards him through the white haze that surrounded everything. He was vulnerable. He had to take the offensive, again. He charged at the intruder and caught him off guard. A well connected right took him down with ease. Batman seized his chance and started to unleash a flurry of blows to the head of his adversary as he fell to the ground. "YOU MONSTER!" he screamed as he continued to rain punches to the face of the man that lay under him. It was at that moment that Batman had regained his sight and saw that the man he was attacking was hostage. He was already dead. The victim had a smile carved across his face and his neck had been snapped. "Joke's on you, Bats!" the voice was behind him. As he spun, he finally saw the one that had murdered the employees of Ace Chemicals.

He was a pale man, almost ghostly, with light blue eyes and a frail build, almost like a skeleton. His hair was thin and wiry with a terrible green dye that looked like jade. He had red makeup across his face to mimic a smile but when the man licked the bloodied knife he held, Batman knew that his crimson smile that contrasted his bone-white skin had come from the victims. The man wore a tattered, dark colored pinstripe suit under a blood stained lab coat and he was sitting on a pile of bodies crudely stacked as a makeshift throne before the door to the main storage cooler. The door was partially propped open by one of the victims. "You're gonna be mad, buddy," he snarled, "but I just checked and that thing we wanted isn't here. They never had it and these smart asses weren't even polite enough to leave us a note informing us that they couldn't get it right. At least I found something more fun by mixing all of their other projects together." The man rose from his seat amongst the bodies, "And I for one think that this new toy I've discovered is too much fun to not share with everyone in Gotham!" Batman slowly stood and took a step towards him.

"What do you mean, 'We'?" he asked. "'What do you mean we?'" the pale man repeated in a sarcastic tone as he slowly turned and put his arms out. "Why else would you be here tonight? You came here looking for the same thing I did only I had more fun trying to find it! I told you when you made your entrance into my little party that you weren't SUPPOSED to be here. This was to be my grand reveal to the people of Gotham! The newspapers were going to read 'The Joker takes down the Ace' or some tripe like that. You know, the press can never seem to get their puns on point." He said almost jokingly. "The Joker…" Batman thought. The pale man's voice changed to something visceral. "But that doesn't matter anymore. They didn't have it and now I'm upset. The real fun is getting ready to start now Brucie, and YOU are going to make sure that the world knows who I am…" Batman froze. "How do you know who…"

There was a bright flash of light. Bruce felt the impact of the rubber bullets on his suit and dropped to the ground. He rolled to his left and kneeled behind the admin desk by the door. His eyes had not yet adjusted from what he was certain was a grenade when he felt the butt of a rifle strike him at the base of his skull causing him to fall to the floor. He rolled to his back and swung wildly to fight off his assailants but he was overmatched. At least six armed attackers surrounded him, pinned him down in an attempt to restrain him. They ripped off his cowl and respirator as they rolled him over and all of the men in front of him stopped. "Bruce?" one of them asked. As his eyes recovered from the flash grenade Bruce was able to see that the men who had taken him down were the men he had selected with Gordon for the Q.R.T. "This can't be right," he thought. How did the G.C.P.D. get there in less than half an hour? From the station to Ace Chemicals was no less than forty minutes, even when running through the traffic lights. "Where did he go? Where's the Joker?" Bruce shouted as they sat him up, "WHERE IS HE?! YOU CANNOT LET HIM ESCAPE!" The men shot each other glances of disbelief as they helped Batman to his feet and escorted him out of the building, backtracking through the rooms that held the Joker's victims.

"The Joker managed to escape that night. He is HERE in Gotham. He will strike again and he will do it after you lock me up so that there is no one to stop him." Bruce said to the court. There was complete silence in the room. "I have nothing further at this time, your honor," said the defense. There was an uncomfortable air in the room. Bruce's testimony was more than most of the courtroom was ready for and he knew it but these people needed the truth no matter how disturbing it was. They needed to know what new danger was lurking in their city. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that will be all," said Judge Sawyer. "The proceedings are dismissed for the remainder of the day. Bruce, you may step down. We will continue with your testimony tomorrow morning." She was obviously shaken, as was everyone else in the courtroom. As the guards escorted him back to his cell, Bruce looked over at the defense table. His attorney was already on his way out without as much as a glance in Bruce's direction.

Bruce lay awake in his cell for hours. He did not sleep that night.

He had not slept any of the other nights, either.

 _ **Subjectivity**_

They followed the same routine daily. They brought him his food, two eggs with a half cup of oatmeal and a glass of water and then ushered him to the shower where he was supervised by armed guards. The guards were now a part of his everyday routine. They provided him with his orange jumpsuit, applied his restraints and escorted him to his seat at the defense table in the courtroom. The room was now bustling with people, mostly from the news agencies that wanted to boost their sales by documenting "The Fallen Knight" as Perry White was calling him over in Metropolis. Bruce wondered what Clark would say about this whole fiasco. Superman had left Metropolis some years ago after he revealed that he had been living amongst humanity as Clark Kent. Bruce thought that he had secluded himself to his northern hideout but he could not be sure that none of their allies could ever legitimately verify his whereabouts. Most people had treated his disappearance as if God himself had given up on humanity. "Maybe he had;" thought Bruce. As he returned to the stand to continue with his testimony Bruce was awash with a calming peace that almost seemed out of place. "Maybe these people have finally reached that moment where gods and heroes are no longer needed."

He looked out amongst the gallery. Roughly half of the faces in the courthouse were not present for the testimonies from the prior day but he was sure that they all knew what had been said. Why else would they be here? "These people all want the truth." he thought, "They deserve that much." Makenzie Bock stood from his chair. He had been in a hushed discussion with the assistant D.A. regarding which direction the prosecution's questioning would go. It was a formality, Bruce knew, as Bock was too good at his job to not plan ahead. His foresight kept Gotham City's criminals behind bars and allowed the people of this city to hope. Bock knew what he was doing and Bruce was well aware of that. "Mr. Wayne, your testimony yesterday was graphic." There was a momentary pause after the statement before Bruce nodded in agreement. "Don't give him an answer until he asks a question." chimed a voice in the back of his head. "You said that there were 'discrepancies' in the police report, Mr. Wayne." Bruce made no movement this time; he just stared at the prosecution. "Bruce, can you elaborate on these inconsistencies between the police report and your account of the crime scene on the night of December the 16th?"

Bruce sat up straight in his chair. "Well, Mr. Bock," Bruce began, "most of the discrepancies were minimal, but not all of them; for example the police report states that the alarm system at Ace Chemicals was triggered at approximately 20:00 hours which was thirteen minutes early." Bruce had chocked that either up to a clerical error or to sloppy police work, more than likely the latter. "There was the issue of the type of alarm that the G.C.P.D. states they were alerted to. The report claims it was a break-in but my findings were of a containment breach in the main research lab of Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals. There is also a gross lack of information regarding the type of research that the employees were working on. Whatever it was, someone was willing to kill to get their hands on it; and on that note, and the report mentions nothing about the Joker. These officers were so quick to take down Batman that they let the real threat to the city slip out from right under their noses." Bruce was frustrated.

"Mr. Wayne, Dr. Caine had read an excerpt from said report during his testimony that described you as being found 'covered in the blood of the victims'. From your testimony we know that you had beaten at least one individual…" Bruce cut off Makenzie Bock before he could finish. "That man was dead. The Joker threw his body at me while I was disoriented. This psycho…" Now it was Bock's turn to interrupt. "Ah yes, this 'Joker' that you are vehemently claiming was there. Bruce, the Q.R.T. as well as the forensics team found no evidence of any individuals in the building other than you and the deceased. You were found disoriented and clutching the body of an employee that you had just beaten to death." "Stay calm…" Bruce thought. "Mr. Wayne, in your testimony you stated that you were heading south on the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, correct?" asked the D.A. "Yes…" said Bruce. "I believe we covered this in my testimony yesterday, Mr. Bock." "But the police report states that tread marks from the tires of the vehicle you were driving that night were found leading into the building from the south. Why would you drive out of the way to approach the building from the south?"

"It was a tactical advantage, 'Hardbook'." Bruce countered. "The southeast end of the building faces the Sprang River. The waterfront is barren and it made for easier access." "Yes, Mr. Wayne, forensics was aware of that. However, the tread marks also led us further south, towards the west end of the city. Why?" "Why;" Bruce repeated in his head. Bock continued, "If you were indeed coming from visiting your interred friend at the cemetery on the EAST side of town then why would you head north over the bridge only to turn around and head back the way you had just came, Mr. Wayne?" "I didn't head north…" Bruce shook his head. "What is he talking about? I came from the cemetery at Wayne Manor. Of course I would be heading south over the river." He thought. "I was coming from the Wayne family cemetery on my estate grounds." Bruce said aloud. The members of the gallery started to whisper amongst themselves. "Mr. Wayne…" The prosecution paused; "you are aware that Lucius Fox is not entombed on your family property, correct?"

Bruce took a breath in to respond but he froze. "What does he mean Lucius isn't buried there? Of course he was. He was family, every bit as much as Alfred. Hell, Alfred and I were his pallbearers. I physically put him in the ground there." the voice in his head was nearly irate. With a sigh he replied, "I know where he is buried, sir." "Okay then, Bruce. If you did indeed come from his plot on the east end then what 'tactical advantage' did it provide you to head north and then backtrack to the southwest side of Old Gotham?" "I had to retrieve my equipment from the cave. I didn't know what I would be walking into and I wanted to be prepared." "Well, Mr. Wayne, would you say that you were fully prepared for what happened in the labs that night?" Bruce locked eyes with the District Attorney. There was an anger that he had felt inside ever since the Joker escaped. He was angry that he failed to stop the Joker and now there was psychopathic killer loose on Gotham City. "No, Makenzie," he finally said with in short tone, "I was not as prepared as I should have been."

Makenzie walked paced across the court. "Mr. Wayne, the alarm went off at Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals at 20:00 on December the 16th. The depositions from the alarm company AND from Wayne Enterprises' security division have both corroborated that. The alarm was triggered when an emergency exit on the third floor was opened from the outside without authorization. The employees in the building that night were working on a compound that was to be tested for cancer suppression. The documentation from Wayne Enterprises and the Ace labs corroborate that as well." "Cancer suppression? Why would the Joker want that?" thought Bruce. "No, the Joker wanted something else in the lab but they didn't have it. He used the chemicals in the contamination suppression system as a weapon…," he said to the court. "Mr. Wayne, there was no other research being done in that lab. In fact, Wayne Enterprises specifically placed a hold on all other projects to focus entirely on medical research." Bruce started to feel a pang at the base of his skull. He was tensing up again. He looked back towards his attorney almost in anger. What was going no? How had this report that was so skewed been admissible as evidence? Akins had to have authorized it, Bruce was sure of it. He looked around the room to see if he was there, he was not. "That coward;" the voice in his head was growing more and more annoyed as the cross examination went on, "he was willing to falsify the report to make himself look better in the public eye." The next words that came from the D.A. caused a hush to fall over the courtroom.

"Why were you at the hospital that night, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce slowly looked back towards the District Attorney. He could not identify the feeling that was growing inside of him. It felt like confusion, almost like waking up from one of the many times he had been knocked unconscious. On the other hand, was it anger? Could it have been fear? Was the justice system that he had worked so hard to repair for the people of Gotham completely corrupt once again? He opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out.

"Bruce, we have surveillance footage showing you at Gotham Mercy General Hospital. Dr. Caine himself saw you exiting the building in a hurry a few hours before the murders. There were dozens of people that can confirm to his testimo…" Bruce had had enough.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT CRANE HAD TO SAY!" Some of the people in the gallery let out gasps. "TWENTY-SEVEN PEOPLE LOST THEIR LIVES AND YOU ALLOW THIS OBVIOUSLY ERRONEOUS REPORT TO BE TREATED AS THE TRUTH?!" Judge Sawyer slammed down her gavel and shouted directly at Bruce; "Order! Order! Mr. Wayne!" Bruce turned to meet her gaze. "One more outburst and you will spend the rest of these proceedings in a cell." There was an echo in his head; "Hypocrites…" it said repeatedly until the feeling that had almost overwhelmed him had passed. He turned back to the see the gallery, all of whom were shocked by his outburst. The jury was a different matter altogether. Some of them looked as though they had just had an epiphany while the rest seemed to sit in indifference.

"Dr. Caine, Bruce…" he heard from Makenzie Bock. "Excuse me?" he replied. "You said 'Crane'. Dr. Donovan Caine is the man we are speaking of right now. Dr. Jonathan Crane was recently transferred from Blackgate prison to Arkham Asylum. In fact, you were the one that put him in there nearly 5 years ago. What made you reference the Scarecrow?" "I said 'Caine'… Wait… Did I? What I meant was…" Bruce's mind flashed back to the night he was taken down by the police. He was in the main storage facility, face to face with a murderer. "Joke's on you, Bats!" This voice… it kept Bruce up at night in his cell; constantly mocking his failure to protect the people that depended on him. Bruce looked around the court. His thoughts were scattered as he was trying to make sense out of what he was hearing. He had sat through Donovan Caine's testimony regarding the police report. His attorney made him aware of everything that was in the report as soon as it was available. Everything that Makenzie Bock was saying felt like the first time Bruce was hearing it and it was leaving him feeling exasperated. "I wasn't there…" Bruce's voice was shaky, almost a whisper at this point, as if the last of his strength was leaving his body. "Bruce, we have forensic evidence that paints a most definitive picture of your evening. You were last seen leaving the hospital in a rush. At that time, you made your way back to Wayne Manor to 'grab your suit' as you stated. You then proceeded to head to Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals to 'investigate a containment breach' where Gotham P.D.'s Quick Response Team found you disoriented, covered in blood from multiple victims, mumbling that 'they were going to know who you are'."

"I wasn't saying that. The Joker said that right before they let him escape," he thought. The voice in his head seemed distant and hollow, as if he was hearing it fade out over some large distance. When it was gone, he was left with only the words of the Joker: "The real fun is getting ready to start now, Brucie…" Bruce focused his gaze at the D.A. "You want me to fold to some inaccurate report filed by a man that would do anything to take down Batman, Mr. Bock. I spent many years fighting the injustice that had taken over this city and in that time I have had my share of both successes and failures. Some of my failures cost people their lives, as did some of my successes. If you would like to find out the true story of what happened that night I would recommend that you get Alfred to substantiate my testimony as he was my support each and every night I have suited up as Batman." Makenzie Bock stopped his pacing and turned to Bruce with a suspicious look. "Mr. Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth is dead. He passed four weeks ago."

"… What?" he muttered as he shook his head, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. Bruce felt a tightening in his chest. There was a haze creeping into his field of vision almost as if he was losing consciousness. "No." he said out loud, "No… Where is he? What have you done to him?"

The courtroom burst into a cacophony of gasps, shouts, and cries. Judge Maggie Sawyer slammed her gavel down repeatedly to try to regain order in her courtroom but it had little effect. Makenzie Bock never once removed his focus from Bruce, which forced him center his view on the D.A. as the darkness started to overtake his vision. He felt himself falling from the chair as Bock faded with everything else into the darkness. He put his hand out to secure himself on the witness stand and took a deep breath. There was a pang in his chest as well as the one that had returned at the base of his skull. He could hear the voice of the Joker from that night ridiculing him yet again:

"Now THIS is to be my grand reveal to the people of Gotham…" and then he laughed.

 _ **When the Knight Falls**_

The bailiff had just finished helping Bruce back to his feet when he heard Maggie asking the defense if they would like a recess. "No, your honor." said Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, you just collapsed in my court. I do not feel at this moment that you are of sound enough mind to weigh in on the matter. Mr. Erickson, does your client need a brief recess to gather himself?" Bruce looked at his attorney, if one could legitimately call him that. The man seemed terrified of what was unfolding in front of him. He looked at Judge Sawyer, then to Bruce, and back to the judge. "No, your honor; Mr. Wayne is willing to continue with his testimony." The courtroom was still abuzz with conversation as the judge tried desperately to reign in the focus of the gallery. Bruce shook the haze away and panned his gaze across the room noting that the jury now had the same look of shock that everyone in the wore. The D.A. waited until the murmuring stopped and then continued with his cross-examination, "Mr. Wayne, you knew that Alfred Pennyworth had passed. You were with him in the hospital when it happened." "Hospital?" thought Bruce. "He was never in the hospital…" His mind went back to the day that Lucius asked him "You know that we won't be here forever, Bruce." He remembered that Lucius had said as he pointed towards Alfred. Bruce let out a short gasp as his memories started to separate themselves from the haze. He remembered that Alfred was lying in a bed neighboring Lucius Fox at Gotham Mercy General.

Bruce choked back tears as he played it over in his head. He remembered that Alfred had grown very weak. He had lost a substantial amount of weight due to the chemotherapy he was going through, his hair thinning. He remembered Alfred near the end, always in pain. The only thing he could do was to moan the word "No…" over and over until he finally succumbed. "The chemo killed him," Bruce said out loud, "that's why we focused entirely on cancer suppression. With Lucius and Alfred both falling victim to cancer I made the executive decision to stop all other projects and make it a priority." "Yes, we know that Bruce." Makenzie Bock replied. "Well, if you know then why are we here? They obviously didn't have it so what were they doing with their time and my money?" Bruce's temperament was changing. He was still calm however; he could sense that odd feeling welling up in his chest again. "Mr. Wayne, we are here to find out what happened the night that twenty-seven people died working on a project that you authorized. From what we have been able to verify, you went to the hospital that night and spoke with some of the doctors regarding the treatment that Mr. Pennyworth had received. You then made inquiries into the availability of the cancer suppressing agent that Ace was working on, shouting 'I know you have it' to the oncologists working that night. The medication had not made it to clinical trials yet and that you left angrily in the hours just before the murders. You made it back to your estate to collect your effects and then you made your way to Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals where you killed the people that failed to save your friends."

Bruce could not clear his head. There were fragments of memories coming in to focus that did not seem to make sense. He remembered a funeral. There were only a few people attending. Dick Grayson was there along with Barbara Gordon. "Was that for Lucius?" His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the D.A.'s words with what was now flooding back to his mind. It was as if he was forcing himself to remember a dream. "We buried Alfred on a Tuesday." Bruce whispered to the court. The room was deathly silent now. All eyes were focused on Bruce Wayne as he attempted to add continuity to whatever was happening in his head. "I was at the cemetery that night. I remember seeing mom and dad… and Alfred."

Just then, he heard it; the laugh, and it was in the courtroom. He looked frantically around the room. There was no denying that the Joker had set this up perfectly. This trial had done all that he had intended. The D.A. had made Batman look like a man out of touch with reality, a vigilante that had become the very thing he tried to remove from Gotham City. There was a momentary lapse in his train of thought before he spoke again. Bruce looked around the courtroom and landed his gaze on the jury. "I remember…" he started, "I remember that I stopped at his grave before I made my way to Ace Chemicals and Pharmaceuticals that night. They were supposed to save him… They were supposed to save them both. I didn't…" Bruce was starting to cry as he continued, "I wasn't ready for what he had done. I didn't know…" the laugh caused him to gulp before whispering, "He's here…" He felt panicked, he knew the Joker was in the courtroom but he could not distinguish him in the crowd of stunned faces. He saw Jim Gordon, mortified at what was being revealed on the stand. He saw Vicki Vale, unmoving with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't know that they hadn't finished it yet…" the feeling had swelled in him to the point of bursting; he sobbed and shouted that Alfred was gone to the court. He could hear the whispers from the gallery as he wept. "And they didn't even have the decency to tell me…" Bruce growled on the stand.

Everyone in the courtroom froze. Bruce looked around at them all and then smiled a terrible grin. "You know what's funny about this whole thing? It's that you people think that this was my fault all along. You were the ones that couldn't be bothered to clean up your own city or to protect yourselves." The D.A. backed away from the stand as Judge Sawyer started to motion for the officers to ready their weapons. "Listen, I did what I could to help out some people in need! All I wanted to do was to keep our little Alfred alive so we could continue to live on without the Batman. You people will never understand that. Nevertheless, there is something that you do understand, and that is violence. You people act as if you abhor it yet you were all willing to stand by and let violence beget violence. You all created a need for me to be the Batman! In your apathy I was left with my own choices as to how I would save Gotham City and do you know what conclusion I have come to? Well, I'll tell you all anyways. There's this lovely thing that I have created that will bring nothing but happiness to this city! Trust me; I've seen it firsthand and I can personally guarantee that it will put a smile on your face!" Bruce started to laugh hysterically. "Bailiff, secure the defendant!" shouted Judge Sawyer. As they surrounded Bruce on the stand, he put his hands up as if to surrender. Most of the gallery was shouting at the stand as the guards had their guns trained on Bruce, everyone watching in horrified anticipation for what would happen next. "It was me, you dolts! I knew what I was going to happen the second I kicked in the door at Ace. These people failed to do their job and it cost me my family. I figured it was a fair trade-off. The fact that it was bunches of fun was just a pleasant side note!" He laughed again before the guards swarmed him on the stand. Blake Erickson sat with his head in his hands. Makenzie Bock stood between Bruce and the gallery. Judge Sawyer was struggling to be heard over the raucousness of the courthouse.

The guards had subdued Bruce and were taking him back to his cell when the feeling that had come over him had passed. As his head was clearing, he turned to ask the bailiff, "What's going on? What happened?" He heard Judge Sawyer call for a recess as he was ushered down the hall to his holding cell. He could hear laughing coming from the cells at the end of the corridor and he turned to the guards, "Don't you hear him?" The officers placed him in his cell and returned to the courtroom, leaving one man to stand guard.

"Hehehehehe…" Bruce heard the chuckle from the next cell. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Sir?" questioned the guard. Bruce ignored him. "Why?" he asked again. "Because you need me to be here, Bruce." hissed the voice in the next cell. Bruce thought to himself, "He knows my name." to which the Joker's voice replied, "Of course I know your name, silly. By the by, that fun I told you about is coming soon. Let's make the most of it, shall we? By the way, the jury is in the other room mulling over our fate now. Maggie called closing arguments after our little conversation with the court and so now all we can do is wait here for the good news!"

"What conversation?" Bruce asked. The Joker chuckled again and then all was silent.

 _ **The Verdict**_

It had only been forty-five minutes when the bailiff and his team of officers had dragged Bruce back in to the courtroom. The atmosphere in the room had changed; the tension was palpable in anticipation of what the jury would decide. Bruce was made to sit next to Blake Erickson one more time, knowing that this man had failed him. He noticed that Blake kept a seat in between them now; not wanting to sit directly beside his client meant that he was trying to distance himself from this case as quickly as he could. "You're a hypocrite, you know." Bruce said to him in a low tone. "It's really too bad that you won't be party to what comes next…" he saw the fear in the other man's eyes as he sat back in his seat with a smile on his face. "Please rise for the jury," yelled the bailiff. "Ah, yes. My 'peers';" said the voice in Bruce's head, "let's see what they have to say about this." Bruce shook it off as they addressed the jury foreman. "Would the foreman of the jury please rise?" A middle-aged man stood. He was nearly overweight and was balding with a graying beard. As he stood, he handed a piece of paper to the bailiff who carried it to Judge Sawyer. Bruce felt his heart pounding in his chest as the note was passed to Maggie. She read it and then looked right at Bruce before handing it back to the bailiff. "Mister Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?" she asked the man. "We have your honor." He replied. "What say you?" she asked. "For the charge of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty on all twenty-seven counts." The court erupted again. Bruce felt his heart sink in his chest as the foreman continued to read the various charges and subsequent verdicts, all of them guilty. The voice in the back of his head started to squeal as if it was excited. There was a surreal feeling that what was transpiring was not real, as if he were removed from his own body and was watching it from the gallery. "Move to sentencing, your honor?" requested Bock. Bruce was in a stupor. He stared directly at the witness stand and tried to make sense of everything that had transpired in this room over the course of the last three weeks.

"Mr. Wayne, I can't say for sure what happened to you that night or what caused you to give up on the justice that you claimed to have stood for. It is the findings of these proceedings that you have suffered from delusions, during which you have had multiple violent outbursts. The testimony from Dr. Donovan Caine also has shown that you suffer from severe dissociative disorder complex that stems from post-traumatic stress disorder. Whether it is a result of witnessing the murder of your parents as a child or from the violence that you witnessed across this city during your years as the Batman, we may never know. What we do know is that the persona of the Batman was most likely a direct result of a dissociative complex and a manifestation due to borderline personality disorder, which would also explain your inability to recount the events of December the 16 , as Dr. Caine suggested may have exacerbated the instances of your personality disorder by forcing you to create an imaginary enemy as a means to continue as the Batman. As judge, I am sworn to uphold the law within the guidelines set by the law itself. With that being said, you have shown throughout your testimony that you cannot be considered a person of sound mind. It is because of these findings that I am remitting you for psychiatric evaluation and treatment at Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane. Your sentencing will begin immediately, Mr. Wayne, and may this city once again know peace." The bailiff grabbed Bruce by his arm and guided him around the table towards the doors. With every step, he could hear the gallery screaming at him:

Liar...

Hypocrite...

Psycho...

Vigilante...

Murderer...

He was led to an underground garage where he was met by the Q.R.T. in front of three unmarked cruisers with tinted windows as well as three unmarked panel-vans. They were playing it safe in his transport. Most of the city now wanted him dead and Gotham's Finest were taking every precaution to make sure that he would make it to Arkham safely. "They have got to let me appeal," he thought. "Do you really think that these people are willing to give to give us any chance at freedom, Bats?" he heard in the Joker's voice. "I may be the one responsible but YOU were the one they caught. C'est la vie, Brucie! Let's just go along for the ride, yeah? I for one am interested to see how much trouble we can get into with our new roommates!" As the van pulled up to the gates of the asylum, Bruce felt a chill run through his blood and in to his bones. There were and additional team of six guards led by officer Aaron Cash waiting for him at the entrance to the building along with the orderlies and doctors Alice Sinner & Joan Leland. "The gang's all here to greet us, Bruce! Look like you're about to get the preferential treatment!" The doctors were the first to speak as the van door slid open.

"Hello Mr. Wayne. I am Dr. Alice Sinner and I am in charge here at Arkham Asylum. My colleague Dr. Joan Leland will be assisting in your admittance today. Along with our third doctor, Harleen Quinzel, we make up what we like to call the 'brain trust' of Arkham Asylum. No treatment is to be administered unless we all confer and agree that it is the best course of action for both the patients and the staff." She turned and pointed to the orderlies and the security team. "These fine gentlemen will escort you to your cell while we complete the change of custody paperwork. Mr. Cash? Would you see to it that Mr. Wayne is appropriately taken care of?" Aaron Cash nodded and directed the security team to escort Bruce in to the building. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach as they led him down a series of similar corridors and through what appeared to be maintenance tunnels. They finally arrived at a freight elevator that was awaiting their arrival. As the group entered the elevator, Aaron Cash waited outside as the doors began to close. He looked at just past Bruce and nodded. The first blow was unexpected. One of the orderlies had punched Bruce right in the small of his back. As he wheeled around to face his attacker one of the guards caught him across the cheek with a baton. Bruce dropped to his knees, blood instantly pouring from a gash on his face. He looked up at the men who were now beating him and wondered, "Well… where's the fun in this?" before he was struck in the back of the head and lost consciousness.

 _ **Epilogue**_

As the guards filed out of the cell, Bruce was left on a bed, bloodied. He had taken worse beatings but the last time was nearly a decade ago and t the difference was that back then Alfred used to patch him up… "Alfred..." Bruce thought. The voice in his head chimed in again, "Ahhh yes. Our beloved Alfred... I guess we all have some level of daddy issues, ey batsy?" Bruce slammed his head back against the wall. "STOP!" he screamed. "And why would I do that, huh? Now that we're getting ready to have bunches of fun." Bruce looked up and was momentarily confused as he realized the guards had all exited the hall. "You know what's coming, batsy. Are we ready for it?" Bruce shouted, "There is no 'we'! There is no us! YOU ARE NOT REAL!" "Oh, I'm real, Bruce;" it said, "I'm every bit as real as 'The Batman'. There would not be a 'you' without a 'me' and you put the rest that were like me away. You couldn't handle your parents' murder so you turned to fighting crime. Big surprise there. Yet, somehow you beat all the crime and that caused you to lose your purpose."

"NO!" Bruce cried as he fell to his knees. "Yes, you hypocrite. Jesus, they were right about you. Anyways, where was I? Ah yes, 'no purpose'. You worked yourself out of a job… or was it a hobby? You weren't getting paid for beating criminals senseless, were you?" "Shut up..." Bruce was slumped into a heap as the alarms started sounding. "And why should I? You lost your purpose! When we lost our precious little Alfred, you didn't know what to do with yourself. Batman needed a purpose to continue to be relevant and Bruce Wayne needed Alfred to give up the Batman. When Batman lost that purpose and when Bruce Wayne lost his favorite live in slave, you had no one left to convince you that the Batman was no longer a necessary. You snapped. You created me. You let me loose upon our city and now I'm as much a part of you as the Batman is." He looked up. The doors to the other cells were opening. "Soooooo, we don't have a whole bunch of time here, Brucie," the voice said, "everyone in this place wants us dead and I really don't think that we want that..." the voice changed at the end to something guttural, "So, batsy, what's it going to be; are we going to let these fine gentleman come in and kill us? Or are we going to kill them?"

Bruce watched as the door to his cell opened. "It's us or them, Bats. Who's it gonna be?" Bruce rose back to his feet as the first inmate charged in. He ducked the errant swing and wrapped his arm around the man's throat. "You know you won't do it, Bruce. It's time to let me out to play." The voice trailed off, leaving only an echoing chuckle of a lunatic fading out. Bruce turned towards the cell door, using the inmate as a shield. He counted at least nineteen inmates waiting just outside the bars, some with rudimentary weapons. "Oh, goody. They brought us some toys!" He thought. He locked eyes with the closest man and started to apply pressure to the inmate's neck. In the back of his mind, and over the screaming of the alarms, a faint voice that was reminiscent of Alfred's begged "No..." Bruce shook his head and said, "You're already dead, old man."

The look on the faces in front of him was pure terror. The lights of the alarm system flashed like lightning, illuminating the fear that was growing amongst the mob of criminals waiting outside his cell. Bruce made sure not to break eye contact with the man closest to him, even as the inmate he was holding started thrashing violently, scratching and prying at Bruce's arm. "There it is;" he thought, as the lights seemed to turn from white to red. He began to apply pressure to the neck of the inmate in his arms. The man let off what sounded like a pathetic whimper as Bruce felt the bones cracking. Once the body was completely limp, Bruce felt a smile spread across his face that he could not stop. "Yessss;" the voice growled as it came out of him. Bruce felt an odd sense of calm fall over him as he started to speak. "Okay then, Bats," he said out loud, "we're gonna have some fun!"

The voice in his head began to laugh.

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